


Gentle Caress

by Sylla_Headhunter



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Day 17 AYE, Keitor Month 2020, Lotor is a mermaid/Siren, M/M, OTHERWORDLY LOTOR OKAY, Somehow, We have the power of Satan and Keitor on our side, injuries, keith is as well, touchstarved Lotor bc why not, treatment of said injuries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-17
Updated: 2020-01-17
Packaged: 2021-04-25 10:35:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22295029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sylla_Headhunter/pseuds/Sylla_Headhunter
Summary: Day 17: VulnerabilityThere is a small creature looking down at him from their place high up in the air (no, he corrects himself harshly, they’re not high up in the air, they’re standing on the shore because they’re human), head tilted to one side, dark eyes regarding Lotor with a sort of quiet curiosity that makes Lotor’s skin crawl.Lotor is hurt and there is no one he trusts enough to see him like this. Until he meets a certain boy with dark hair, looking down at him from the shore
Relationships: Keith/Lotor (Voltron)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 84
Collections: Keitor Month 2020





	Gentle Caress

**Author's Note:**

> // So I'm not entirely satisfied with this dasghjgh LETS TRY AND MAKE THIS WORK//
> 
> I took some inspiration from a REALLY old book series I enjoyed as a kid, where a girl (her name was Emily, I believe) could turn into a mermaid bc her dad was one and her mother was human so basically, uh, have that. Also, the lore about there being different kind of mermaids is something I quite enjoy, so I just sprinkled some mermaid-racism in there as well and went with it, Oh well ;-;
> 
> I hope you still enjoy it!

His tail hurts and Lotor hisses a soft curse, breath escaping him in a flurry of bubbles before his head breaks the surface of the quiet lake. His quills open and close helplessly for a few panicked moments before his heritage takes over, smooth skin growing over them, his trachea finally opening up to let him take a few shallow gasps of blessedly fresh air.

“Are you alright?”  
The soft, tentative question makes his hackles rise and Lotor whirls, the harpoon stuck in his fin sending a jolt of pain through his entire body. There is a small creature looking down at him from their place high up in the air (no, he corrects himself harshly, they’re not high up in the air, they’re standing on the shore because they’re _human)_, head tilted to one side, dark eyes regarding Lotor with a sort of quiet curiosity that makes Lotor’s skin crawl. He hisses, showing the human his slender teeth, a maw of deadly spikes and ragged points, but the human doesn’t budge, a soft frown adorning his face.

“Are you alright? Can you understand me?” he repeats, squatting down until he is sitting cross-legged on the shore in front of Lotor. He looks rather thin, black hair clinging to white cheeks and a thin neck. Lotor bares his teeth again, his whole body trembling with the need to get this human out of his sight. Away from him. He is a predator, a feared and hated one in the human part of this world and he knows it. The moment he shows weakness is the moment he dies. But since scaring the human away doesn’t seem to be working …

“I can understand you just fine.”  
The human blinks at the sultry voice Lotor manages to conjure up to hide his pain. It’s quite easy actually – he has always been exceptional in hiding his own weaknesses, if he dare say so himself, his father’s court having taught him everything in that regard he ever needed to know. No one is kind to a creature born out of mud and something Lotor doesn’t understand himself (for how could his father have loved any other creature in his life before, a sweet and tender mermaid from the rivers no less) and so he has learned to rely on nothing but himself and his abilities.

The human is still staring at him and Lotor smiles, lips hiding his teeth this time, one of his scaly arms coming up to the surface to splash a few drops of water into the human’s general direction.

“Shouldn’t you be afraid of me, little one?”  
The human bristles indignantly. “I am not little,” he answers, rather sharply, and Lotor chuckles lowly. He is, truly – barely long enough to measure his height against Lotor’s tail would he be swimming next to him. A small, stranded animal staring back at him from the shore, their homes ultimately as different as can be.

“And I’m not afraid, either.”  
Lotor blinks. Now this is something he hasn’t heard from another being in a while. The human scowls down at him and Lotor feels the need to say something, anything to shatter the awkward silence settling in between them.

He doesn’t. Instead, he ignores the pain lashing through his body  and shoves himself off the shore, scales caressing the water with a silent promise.

“It was quite lovely meeting you, human,” he purrs through the agony ripping him in half. “But I must be on my way. Do await my return, if you haven’t lost your fear by then.”  
The water swallows him whole but he thinks he hear a rather indignant call of protest from the human. It makes him pause just long enough to feel something else – someone else – enter the waters with a soft splash. He jerks around, body poised for a fight (for anything, really) and comes face to face with the human from the shore.

Only he is not human anymore.

Soft, pale features are being rapidly framed with scales carrying a hue of purple all the way down to the human’s chest, his eyes glossing over just like Lotor’s do, protected from the wet abyss around them by a thin sheen of a semi-permeable membrane. Legs lose their prominent form, sealing themselves together until there is something other than a human swimming in front of him. Something – someone – who looks an awful lot like himself.

“You’re hurt.”  
The man in front of him has his jaw set in a determined line but Lotor can practically smell something else in the way his eyes dart around and never seem to settle on anything concrete.

_Oh, _ he thinks after the former human blinks towards the shore above them,  _he is afraid._

It doesn’t seem to be mindless panic gripping the other man but rather a deeply seated unease about this form of his, this way his body transforms himself – even though he is beautiful. Lotor hasn’t gotten a great look at him before but now that he can actually see eye to eye with the other, he can admire the way purple blends with grey inside his eyes, the way his webbed fingers weave through the water, barely causing a ripple to reach Lotor’s own body.

This stranger is exposing himself for another one’s sake and it makes Lotor swallow back an emotion he has entirely forgotten about.

“My name is Lotor,” he murmurs – not an answer to the stranger’s question (or rather, a reaction. It hadn’t been a question in the first place) but it’s something. The other blinks and tilts his head to one side.

“I’m Keith.”  
It is not a name he has ever heard before, a name the human world must have made up but then again, his own name doesn’t derive from the depths of this place either. Lotor hums softly and lets himself get carried to the other man – to Keith – by a barely noticeable underwater current.

“And what, _Keith, _pray tell, would you be doing to me, now that you know about my injury?”  
He bares his teeth but Keith doesn’t flinch, he just scrunches up his brow in a way that makes Lotor’s own smile flee his face.

“Helping you, what else?”

Lotor blinks.

“What?”  
It’s not an entirely articulate question but then again, he has never had anyone offer to treat his wounds before. Keith shrugs, a fluid movement sending a small ripple through the water around him.

“I can treat it. It looks painful and hard to reach for you. Plus, I’m pretty good at treating wounds like that.”  
He doesn’t press the issue at hand, letting Lotor mull over the words for a few painfully elongated seconds, before Lotor feels himself giving in to the throbbing pain and the way Keith looks at him – expectantly. Fully ready to accept Lotor turning down his offer, if it came to it.

“Fine.” The word gets dragged out of his mouth ever so slowly but he is rewarded with a small, satisfied smile blooming on Keith’s face. The other man scoots closer, careful not to disturb the waters too much and Lotor grits his teeth at the thought of trusting someone else like this-

Surprisingly gentle hands glide down his tail, making him shiver softly – it feels intimate, entirely too much so, almost as if Keith were unmasking his carefully crafted identity of the cold and aloof Lotor he tries to present the world with with just his fingers and a soft caress.

“This is gonna hurt. I’m sorry.”  
The words barely register in Lotor’s head before Keith grabs for the harpoon and yanks it out in one fell swoop, making him almost unable to stifle the yelp pushing past his teeth. Blood taints the waters around them before sinking towards the abyss yawning beneath them in a purple haze.

“Sorry about that,” Keith mutters softly, his hands once again stroking the tender meat around the gaping wound, working something around it. Lotor manages to make his eyes focus again and almost starts at the sight of Keith’s own shirt wrapped around his tail and secured by a few weed strands. Keith looks up from his piece of work, hands leaving Lotor’s body.

“Is that alright? Can you move it?”  
He is actually concerned about his well-being, Lotor thinks rather dumbfounded, words leaving him not for the first time today.

“Yes,” he finally does manages. “Quite alright.”  
Keith hums softly, that damning smile still on his lips. It makes his eyes crinkle at the corners.

“I’m glad.”  
His fingers squeeze around nothing and Lotor finds himself wishing for them to touch him again.

“Thank you,” he blurts out, startling himself as much as Keith, whose eyes grow slightly larger. “I … thank you.”  
Keith’s earlier smile returns, widening until Lotor feels his lips curl into an answering one, almost reflexively.

“You’re welcome.”  
They don’t say anything else for a long time, but if Lotor suddenly finds the courage to reach out for the other man, to touch his hands until Keith tentatively curls his fingers around Lotor’s, none of them mention it.


End file.
